


A Bird on the Wind

by tyrellis



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Food Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mind Games, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Suicidal Thoughts, Victim Blaming, Vomiting, also despite being entirely about rape the rape itself is not detailed WHATSOEVER, not actually v shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrellis/pseuds/tyrellis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their latest expedition, the Survey Corps hold a party for their remaining soldiers: Jean just wants to have a good time, but what he sees as innocent flirting becomes something much darker than he can handle.</p><p>For five days, he says nothing. For five days, he sleeps less, eats less, and speaks less to his friends. For five days, Jean's 'fine'.</p><p>But he's not fine.</p><p>(Or, another hella late-to-the-party fill for <a class="tag" href="http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/8414.html?thread=7710174">this!</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bird on the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> er, hello......i'm a terrible person... jean, i love you, but....i had to...
> 
> i mean, if you've read the tags, you know what you're in for basically... the entire rape scene is like glossed over though, like absolute minimal explanation of it, pls tell me if that is like a problem?? but i couldn't bring myself to do it. also, yh, not actually v shippy, but hints of it. more towards the end, i suppose.
> 
> i really don't know what to say. i'm sorry? even if u don't like it, can u tell me if it's well-written? and like assure me i didn't use actions like flinching or looking away too often D: idk man. idk. i'm sorry. but...i really wanted to delve into this mindset tbh... ok yh anyway feedback is always appreciated <3

It happens at a party, some silly thing thrown for all the soldiers to relax and let off some steam before the next batch of training and whatever idea Erwin concocts next. Jean's been enjoying the night, for once - had a bit of vine, sat around with his mates for some banter, even had a decent conversation with Jaeger without a) getting into a ridiculous fight or b) letting slip that he actually has this weird crush on him, so Jean's fairly proud of himself.

And more than a little drunk. Not too terribly, though - Connie alternates between singing ballads to strangers and challenging Reiner to drinking contests, and Sasha's inhaling whatever food appears and laughing, at everything. Armin and Mikasa have restrained themselves, as always, but they're warmer round the eyes and indulges everyone's silly chatter.

Everyone's here: it's nearly a week after their return from an expedition that didn't go terribly, but also didn't go brilliantly either and everyone's been eager to take their minds off the casualties of their latest effort. The older soldiers have all formed their groups by the bar or in musty corners, but the rest all mingle, wandering and laughing and chugging vine whilst sharing all sorts of stories. Jean's stuck mainly with his 104th friends, but he's nominated to get the next bottle of vine, so he traipses up to the bar at some early hour in the morning and requests another.

Everyone's having a good time; so it doesn't catch Jean off balance when some guy, maybe a year or so older and more than a few inches bigger, sidles up beside him and smiles. It's one of those cheeky, rugged grins that Jean raises an eyebrow at, but the guy says, "What's your name, soldier?"

And Jean's stuck waiting for his bottle, so he decides to indulge this guy - besides, he's not so bad-looking in the semi-dark, and it's rare anyone takes an interest in Jean at all. "Jean," he says, "from the 104th."

"The kids the captain likes, huh?" the guys replies, voice smooth as he leans in a little. "You must be good."

He is. "Hardly," he says anyway.

"Aw, c'mon," the guy chides him, smile dripping. "Must be somethin', or he wouldn't have chosen you. What is't, leadership skills? Combat? 3DMG? Those looks o' yours?"

Jean rolls his eyes again, reaching out for the vine the barman hands over, but sticks around and hopes the darkness hides his blush. "3DMG," he answers. "Best in my class," because it's maybe the only thing he has to boast about.

"Best in your class, huh?" The guy smirks, leans in further, touches Jean's arm; and he doesn't pull away. "Makes me wonder what else that body can do."

 _Shit_. No one's ever come on so strongly to Jean before - maybe not ever - but he can't help this dumb grin that takes over his lips and his traitorously pale skin that flushes red all over. "Maybe you can find out," he replies, voice going all soft like Sasha's when she's sweet-talking Connie for food.

He doesn't stick around, though. His friends are beginning to call out for their drink, and he walks away, perhaps a little more sway in his hips than before, and his smile is self-satisfied as he sits and gives out the vine. He waits five minutes - maybe less? His mind's gone a bit dizzy - before he does a brief survey of the room, and the guy's in the corner, leaning against the wall, and watching: he gives Jean a little smirk, looks at the door, back at him, and waits for Jean's nod before heading out.

He makes some excuse about how the vine's a bit much, and when he stands he sways a little and everyone starts agreeing, and when he walks out, no one follows.

\--

It's a mistake. It's _such_  a mistake, but it's his fault. Because... Because he initiated it. Asked for it, even. Flirted with the guy, never learnt his name, but laughed and smiled and played hard-to-get anyway, and the guy learns some of what Jean's body can do but it's awful, every second of it is awful and things Jean didn't want to know, the guy treats him like- acts like- does things that Jean _doesn't want_ -

But Jean, the guy says after, when Jean's bloody and tear-stained and barely breathing, isn't this what you asked for?

Was it? Wasn't it? Jean had so much to drink and he doesn't remember, he had so much to drink and the man seems completely sober, and he has no reply, no answer but tears, and the guy laughs and swats him again, on the shoulder this time, and it's _humiliating_  - the positions Jean's been forced into, what he's had to do, the guy laughing and ordering and threatening and saying _but what did you expect, this is what you wanted, you think they'll believe you over me? When you_ asked _for it? You think anyone would care? About you, Jeanny? You think anyone would care at all?_

Sasha's always wrapped up in Connie; Ymir and Christa care exclusively about each other; Reiner and Bertholt spend galaxies in each others' eyes; Armin and Mikasa have never cared deeply for Jean; Eren probably _hates_  Jean; and Marco's dead.

Why would anyone care? Why _should_  anyone care?

But even when Jean admits it, even when Jean says, slurred and cracked and barely audible, that he doesn't think anyone would care at all, the guy doesn't stop talking.

Not even once.

\--

He doesn't get out of bed the next morning. He doesn't even know how he got there, but at midday, when he awakens, he's in his assigned barracks, with Connie on one side and Eren snoring like a pig in the bunk below. It doesn't matter, because everyone's in bed, recovering from the previous night - Jean has no idea when everyone went to bed, how long the party lasted, how much fun they all had.

He's almost aware of how much fun he didn't have. Almost, because it's all been glossed over, somehow, bits all blurred out, until it's too fuzzy and he can't piece the night together, can't find the ending, can't figure anything out.

He ends up running to the bathroom and throwing up, panicking, washing out his mouth and splashing water in his face but still choking, sitting against the bathroom wall with his head in his hands for at least half an hour.

The guy. In darkness he'd looked barely twenty, but in light Jean had realised he was older, though how much he couldn't tell - can't remember - can't figure it out. It's disturbing, because usually Jean's memory is so reliable, and even when he gets drunk it's never terrible, and he always remembers which shoulder he falls asleep on, always remembers being carried to bed or, usually, woken up and dragged there.

But- but fuck, he doesn't remember _anything_  past the unfathomable pain - god, it burns _everywhere_  - and the guy's voice, low and ragged in his ear, and all the things he _said_ -

Oh god, oh god, it's all his fault, isn't it? Because he said those things, he explicitly _told_  the guy he wanted to have sex with him, or near enough, close enough, basically, he brought it on himself and it's what he deserves, isn't it? Yes, yes, that's what the guy said, and it has to be right because the guy said nobody cared and no one's here and he's obviously right, isn't he? No one's here, and no one cares, and Jean is... _disgusting,_ for having done this. For having brought it on himself.

He digs his head into his knees, shoulders shaking, trying not to imagine facing anyone, facing that _guy_  again, oh god, what if it happens again? Jean couldn't _bear_  it, he'd rather die than be put in such horrific circumstances again, except-

Well, except it's really not that horrific, isn't it? Much worse things have happened to other people. Eaten by titans, limbs lost, best friends and family lost, homes, property, everything lost... Virginity and a sense of security probably don't rate far up the list. But god, Jean's always been a selfish piece of shit, is this a surprise that he's so self-obsessed to be upset about this? Besides, he never fought back, so of course he has to deal with the consequences. Anyone else would've fought back: Eren, Mikasa, even Sasha... They would've screamed and shouted, kicked and punched and fought so hard the guy would've been the one close to death, but Jean is _weak_  and Marco was wrong, he's weak, and he couldn't ever quite find it in himself to scream, especially when the guy said he'd kill him if he did, and he never had the strength to fight back, the vine had blurred his vision and weakened him- or maybe he was just already weak, maybe he's just trying to pin the blame on something when in reality it's _him_ , it's _his_  fault, why can't he understand this? He's always been a piece of shit. Now he's just...even more disgusting.

He thinks maybe he doesn't stop crying for another hour. No one comes in, though, so no one knows.

\--

Training resumes sharp at one p.m.. Jean wants to make excuses, because everything still hurts and he doesn't know how obvious it will be, but he also doesn't want to be lumped in with the losers that begged off practise because of a hangover, even though it's not, it's _not_ -

But thinking too hard on it makes his eyes wet and his shoulders tight so he tries to keep his mind far, far away from it, even though every step sends a blitz of pain through and he's walking funny and he's had to dress himself very carefully to hide any marks, but everyone's complaining about sore heads and not enough sleep and no one notices.

Which is good. Because Jean doesn't deserve attention, and he doesn't _want_  it either- shudders at the thought of someone knowing, seeing, figuring it out- figuring out how disgusting and shameful and wrong Jean really is- oh, fuck, he can't stand the thought, he _really_  can't-

"Oi, Kirschtein? Is something the matter?"

It's Jaeger. Fucking Eren Jaeger, who hates Jean maybe as much as Jean hates himself, who's the fucking god damn pinnacle of justice and fighting for freedom and everything Jean's never been able to embody, even now that he's in the Survey Corps, bloody Eren Jaeger, the hope of humanity, and Jean can't help looking at him like Eren could be the hope for _his_  humanity.

Yet Eren doesn't look like he hates Jean. His eyes are narrowed, yes, but he's frowning, not half-open scowling or growling like usual, and he's assessing Jean's face like that'll answer his question - but Jean already checked, there aren't any marks there so it won't. It's fine. He's fine.

Eren's gaze is hardening a little, and Jean sputters out, "I-it's okay, nothing, I'm fine. Nothing's the matter. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You were looking like... Like you were gonna be sick. Bad hangover?"

_Oh, thank god._

"Oh," Jean half-laughs, "y-yeah, pretty bad, yeah."

"You weren't looking so good when you left yesterday."

"Yeah, w-well, you know."

Eren opens his mouth, but Hanji glides in, grabbing his arm and exclaiming, "Alright, Eren, today you get to practise your Titan form with everyone else, okay?! So what we'll have you do is..."

Jean breathes a little easier for the remainder of the walk.

\--

Of course, actually training is a different story - the harnesses hurt, worse than usual, digging into the other bruises and cuts and bites the guy left, and his thighs ache something awful everytime he moves, and even though he's the best - said it himself, didn't he? - every single action is hampered by the pain, and there's so much pain.

There's too much pain.

No one's doing as good as usual, though - except maybe Mikasa - so it's fine, barely noticeable, _fine_. They've managed to get Titan Eren up, and he's wandering around a little, snatching at things and bearing his tongue at everyone. They're meant to be doing this weird practise exercise, so they've gone a little far out, where the trees are, and one person teams up with Eren whilst three or four others attack, and it's actually working - Hanji's on the ground making notes, and Levi's sitting on a tree nodding to himself and scowling, and everyone gets in teams and practises fighting in midair when they're not engaged in battle with Eren.

Eventually, Jean has to go forward as Eren's partner. He's scowling the whole time, and hopes no one notices his stumble when he lands on Eren's shoulder - his skins burning up, and his face is taller than Jean - but Eren barely turns his head and glances at him, like some kind of acknowledgement, and Jean wonders if Hanji's recording Eren's level of intelligence as a Titan, because it seems to be increasing.

They're set off against Reiner, Bertl, and Connie. An interesting team, since the first two work together perfectly and Connie's a bit of a spanner in the works, but Jean flies out to meet them and distract them and fight them whilst spinning and shooting through the air nonetheless, gritting his teeth through the pain as he hears Eren knocking them back or grabbing them, running around just a little to get away from them, as if they're just bugs buzzing around his head.

Which they probably are, at this size.

Reiner's flying at Eren's eye from one side, and Bertl aiming for the other from the opposite side, and Connie's swinging round the trees like he might get Eren's nape, and Jean only has a second or two to calculate before shooting off, knocking Reiner away with considerable force - their blades aren't really blades today; wood wrapped in cloth, so it doesn't hurt excessively - and completes a complicated flip in the air to catch Bertl, and barely manages to dig his hooks into the opposite tree to turn sharply and speed into Connie, grabbing him by his waist and bodily throwing him off to the side. He rounds Eren's shoulder, heaving for breath, and tries to shoot his hooks at the last second-

But he's exhausted. He can't quite remember _why_  his arms are so sore - pinned down, maybe, or tied up... Yes, tied up by his belts, that sounds right, hung up for hours, he can't be sure... But his arms are exhausted, all his muscles weary, and after trying to suppress the pain for a few minutes it's all boiled to the surface, searing, and Jean lets himself fall. It's probably for the best.

He doesn't count on anyone catching him, though - _Eren_  catching him, still in titan form, just cupping Jean in his hand and setting him down with this weird fingertip-pat to Jean's head that almost knocks him over again.

He doesn't get a second's respite before Levi's in front of him, saying, "Oi, Kirschtein, the fuck was that about?!"

Being on solid ground is _not_  doing well for his legs: "S-sorry, Captain, I-I'm just so tired, I-I, I'm sorry, I'll try not to-"

A hand grabs his shoulder before he can collapse on weak knees - Reiner's beside him, looking concerned.

"Call it quits today, Kirschtein," Levi says, looking pissed but in a more general-pissed than specifically-at-Jean pissed. "You get the rest of the day free."

Levi zooms off, and Reiner says, "Good job up there," then mutters, "You need a hand?"

"I'm _fine_ ," Jean hisses, and storms back to the barracks, hoping his limp isn't as pronounced as it feels.

He sits for a long time on his own. No one comes in for hours, and Jean just pulls his knees up and rests his head on them and shuts his eyes, trying to ignore all the insidious thoughts creeping into his mind, thoughts that make him curl his fingers into fists so hard he thinks he could tear his own palms open, and the thoughts that make him believe he deserves that pain, and so much more.

He falls asleep, somehow; when he's next conscious, he's on his side, gasping and sweating and shaking, eyes wide, all alone.

\--

At dinner, Reiner and Eren and a few others all ask him why he fell during training - he stutters, caught off-guard, then Connie asks if it's because of his a shit hangover and he pounces on the excuse, nodding in relief as they all tell him he did look super drunk the other night. He only goes to dinner with Bertl and Reiner, and sits by them and Eren and Mikasa the entire time, jumping up with them all when they decide to leave. He's not always like this; sometimes he'll go chat with Ymir and Christa, or hang around with Connie and Sasha for a while more - he'll even linger and talk a little with other 104th soldiers, with anyone who seems decent enough.

The entire time, as he consumes his pasty soup with a scrunched nose, he's glancing behind his shoulders, back tense, looking up every time someone enters the dining hall and flinching if someone touches him. Mikasa's quirked her eyebrows a few times, but said nothing - Armin's been staring, though, like he can figure out something's wrong. It wouldn't be a surprise, Armin is smarter than the rest of them put together. He doesn't want anyone to know why he's like this, though, so he smiles and laughs and waves ocassionally, but can't help withdrawing into himself, staying silent for too-long periods of time, and always searching the room. If he enjoys his soup or is involved in the chatter for too long the hairs on his neck prickle, and he feels like he's being watched, and he has to twist round to check there's no one behind him, watching, knowing.

He stays alert all the way through dinner, and all the way on the wander back to the barracks. He's already showered, so he puts straight to bed as soon as possible - however, people come back in and the lights go out and the hours pass, and Jean stays awake, tossing and turning and tearing up in frustration, curling up and yanking the duvet over all of him like when he was a child and he thought it would keep the monsters out - a duvet isn't going to keep _this_  monster out, though, should he reappear and do those- do those _things_  again...

He can't stay on one side for too long, in case there's something behind him; can't lie on his back or stomach because he feels too vulnerable; and in the end he dozes in turns, switching from one side to the other and tearing his fingers into the sheets. He dreams only in vivid flashes, but they're enough to make him run to the bathroom and throw up a few times before he can face lying back down. It's almost the worst night of his life.

But of course it isn't, and that's what's keeping him up so late. It's a different fear from when he faces the titans - it's _worse_ , because at least he knows how to fight the titans, knows he can kill them, knows he can work out how to deal with them, but with this man Jean's lost. He _can't_  fight back because he's not strong enough, or smart enough, or _good_  enough, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do, how to avoid him, what he'll do if it happens again. He doesn't know if it'll happen again, and he can't stop checking to make sure it won't.

By the times everyone else wakes up, he's just fallen asleep - they shake him a couple times and ask him some questions, but he ends up sleeping through breakfast, and going late to training.

No one seems to notice, though.

-

Training is just as bad as the day previous. They're doing some basic hand-to-hand combat in the morning, which is usually a bit of a laugh because no one but Eren ever took it very seriously, but even the lightest of touches jolt random bruises or weak areas of his body so he's constantly cringing and wincing and trying to pretend he's stronger than he is. Jean's decent enough at hand-to-hand, and luckily the others aren't fighting him seriously enough to make it all hurt, but the tiny bits of pain seem to burrow right down into his bones until he's exhausted.

They have to swap partners every ten minutes or so, and Jean manages to avoid Eren and Mikasa, who fight like they mean it, and Reiner doesn't go too hard, either - instead, the problem comes with _Sasha_  of all people. The two of them are playing around, and Sasha's got her arm round Jean's shoulders and is pulling him down to her level, and they're both laughing because though Sasha's a bit of a weirdo, she's still one of Jean's closest friends. He's yanking on her arm and trying to kick her, and she giggles and slaps him right on the shoulder and he flinches so bad she drops her arms in an instant. He clutches at his shoulder, hissing "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," whilst Sasha hovers, hands dancing around him like she's too scared to touch.

"Jean? What's wrong? Did I really hurt you? I'm so sorry, Jean, I didn't mean to!"

"It's fine, it's fine," he mutters, straightening and trying not to wince too much because fuck, _ow_ , and he's briefly reminded of a different hand, bigger and stronger and hotter than Sasha's, coming down in the exact same place and he's back to whispering _fuck fuck fuck_.

"Jean? I'm sorry, I honestly didn't mean to... Are you okay?"

"Yeah, _fuck_ , I'm fine, Sash," he says, and she places a hand on her hip and squints at him as he adds, "I swear, everything's fine. It doesn't hurt."

She reaches out, as if to touch his shoulder again, but as he flinches back Pixis blows the whistle and Sasha's attention is diverted to Connie, who's bounding over with his fists up. She greets him with a high kick and they laugh, and Sasha doesn't look back as Jean meanders over to the next one, shoulder hurting like a bitch. This guy's easy, though, and they mostly just fool around instead of actual sparring, and then time's up and they're shuffling back inside for lunch.

He sits with Reiner and Mikasa and the others, keeps his gaze fixed on his food until his shoulders hurt with the tension building inside of him, and he has to look just in case, _just in case_. The guy's never there, of course; at least, never where Jean can see him, and it unnerves him as much as it comforts him.

The hours til dinner are spent going over Erwin's new strategy plan for their next expedition: where they're going, what they're doing, how they're doing it. It sounds good, and Armin asks a lot of questions and nods every now and then, and Jean used to be a little like that - smart enough, and he liked strategy enough, but suddenly it seems a bit much to even try competing with Armin, and even as he reads through the plan and sees the diagrams on the board, again and again, he can't form a comprehensive thought on it. Good, it seems, until Armin points out some flaws and Jean realises he's right - and even then he can't fully grasp why, like a heavy fog has descended over his mind and keeps him from understanding things.

He ends up with a headache from trying to think so much, which might explain why he's such a mess at dinner.

You'd think dinner would be fine. Lots of people, surrounded by his close, strong friends, and most people focusing on getting their food rather than idle chitchat. He's at the edge of their group, something he'd not bothered fixing today, with Ymir opposite him and Connie on his right. His chin leans on his left hand as he eats, effectively blocking his view of the rest of the table, and he doesn't realise anyone's sat there until fingers brush his shoulder and a familiar voice asks, "Don't mind if we sit here, do you?"

Jean can't move a single muscle. The dining hall was so noisy before, but now all he can hear is the rush of his blood and the thumping of his heartbeat in his ears, and the voice, that fucking _voice_  that sounds so cheerful and colloquial now, that had before when it chatted Jean up, with the same maliciousness that Jean hadn't noticed then lingering in the undertone. His eyes are wide, his fingers digging into his hand, the hand holding the spoon shaking until it clatters to the bowl. The fingers on his shoulder burn - for a half-second, maybe, they squeeze, and the pain, already exacerbated today by Sasha, intensifies immediately - tears spring to the corner of his eyes and he drops his gaze to his lap, hoping no one notices.

The fingers leave, but the guy sits down, on Jean's right, and he's horrified, so horrified, of what this guy is going to say. What he'll reveal. What is he _doing_  here? _Why_  is he doing this? Wasn't that one night of torment enough? Oh, god, if only Jean had been checking today; then he would've seen the guy coming, could've removed himself from this situation.

Unless the guy followed him. That would make it even worse. But Jean could just be being selfish and self-centred, to which he is prone, and the guy could be after one of his friends, or just being friendly, although Jean wouldn't count on it. Oh god, oh god, what's he going to do? What can he do?

"I need to-" Everyone's talking, he realises, as he looks up - the guy has friends with him, as well, and Jean can't possibly leave his own friends vulnerable to this guy _and_  extras. Jean's not... He's not going to do that. He may be a coward, but he's _not going to do that_. He sits back down. "I- never mind. I just- am tired. Sorry." His voice keeps getting smaller as he talks, and he cast his eyes at his soup, not sure he wants to see the expressions his his friends' faces.

"And who are you, soldier?" the guy asks him, and he nearly shudders, barely manages to suppress it, and has to fight hard for even breath to answer.

"K-Kirschtein, sir," he mumbles, "Jean Kirschtein."

"From the 104th, like these? Levi's new squad, right?" The guy points his thumb at his friends, who are having a gentle banter between themselves and with the guys this guy brought along. They're barely paying attention but Jean's hands are shaking so hard he has to hide them under the table. He nods. "So, what's your speciality, huh?"

Jean wants to die. He still hasn't looked at the guy directly yet - at anyone, really - and answers quietly, "I-I'm...I'm not too bad at... I'm not-"

"Jean sucks!" Ymir crows. "We only keep him around because of his face, you know, his horse face - he can communicate real well with the horses."

They laugh, and Connie grabs his jaw and makes him look up, angling his face towards the other guys as he says, "Here, look, because it's so long, right? You can see it."

The other guys nod and pitch in with a few comments of their own; the guy mouths _horseface_  at him with this cruel smirk and Jean stares back down at his soup, face red and thoroughly humiliated. What's irrational is that somehow there are tears pricking his eyes again, and he keeps having to dig his nails into his hands to make himself stop.

"You know, Kirschtein's not so bad on the 3DMG," Reiner chips in.

"Really?" the guy asks.

"Oh yeah, took three of us out just yesterday, wasn't it?" Connie's nodding, and Eren too as Reiner gets into the story, only hesitating when it gets to Jean falling and suddenly a familiar hand hits at his knee and he jolts again, recoiling back and shifting as much as he can towards his friends.

"That sounds pretty rubbish," the guy says, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "How'd that happen to a guy like you, huh?"

 _You know why_ , Jean wants to scream, _you know, you disgusting bastard, you horrible asshole, it's all your fault, it's your fault I'm like this, it's all-_

"My fault," Jean mutters, eyes flickering up briefly to meet Reiner's before skittering away. "I just...wasn't conserving my energy. I guess."

"You think you'd know better" - and Jean cringes - "but I guess that's what training is all about, right?"

"Right!" everyone says, and they laugh, and keep laughing, and Jean wants to leave, he _has_  to leave-

But he can't. He can't.

His fingers tremble too much to pick his spoon back up, so he clenches his fists beneath the table and keeps his head down, listening to the banter that fills the air around him, the spoons clinking against the bowls, the thunk of cups hitting the wooden tables, and the way everyone laughs at everything the guys say. He moves up the bench, just a little, but Jean's already as close to Connie as he can get without looking weird, so he's stuck between them, frozen and unable to react as the guy reaches beneath the table every now and then to drag his nails across Jean's fists or to slap Jean's knee or to press against the bruises he left on Jean's thighs. He feels sick, he thinks he'd definitely going to be sick, but he can't leave now without his friends, and it's not like he could be sick even if his friends were there because that would raise questions, and then he might not get to do training tomorrow, and then he'd be left alone _all day_  and Jean can't bear the thought-

"Are you going to have that?" Sasha asks him, leaning back and reaching round Connie to tap his shoulder. He frowns, looks at the half-empty bowl of soup before him, and shakes his head - she lets out a shout of glee and grabs it from him.

An awkward moment of silence ensues, until Armin clears his throat.

"Hey, I think I might head off back to the barracks, now," Armin says, his voice strong and clear and breaking through the fog Jean's been shrouded in. "I want to have another look over the Commander's new strategies."

Eren snorts. "'Course you do."

"Anyone else?" Armin asks, shooting a little smile at Eren regardless. Mikasa looks to him, then back at Eren, who's grinning at the new guys, and shakes her head. Connie's staring after Sasha, who's nagging the cooks about getting extra bread, and Reiner's halfway through an in-depth story about his own personal prowess during his trainee years. Bertl pats his shoulder, exchanges a sweet smile, and stands; Jean sees his opening with relief.

"Yea- yes! I'll come, I... I'm really exhausted from today, you know," he rambles, and before he can lurch to his feet the guy sinks his fingers into Jean's thigh again, right into the bruise still aching from before, and he presses his fingers in so hard Jean can feel his nails through his trousers. He has to grit his teeth to stop himself from yelping, and lurches to his feet as soon as those fingers release him.

Armin's staring. "Okay," he says, as Jean's forced to press his back against the guy so he can throw one leg then the other over the bench. His nails are still digging into his palms when he's finally on two feet, and he's off-balance, somehow, finding it difficult to right himself as Bertl extracts himself from the table and they join Armin. They leave straight away, waving at their table before looping around the rest of them to get to the main corridor and down to the barracks. It's not early, not it's not too late, either, so there aren't many people meandering around.

Armin and Bertl are chatting about dinner; Jean stares at his feet, feeling sick to his bones everytime he remembers the way the guy had looked at him, had touched him, and yet had interacted so charmingly with his friends. What's he trying to do? How much worse does he think he can make this situation for Jean? As if invading Jean's body wasn't enough, now he's trying to conquer Jean's friends... What if he's trying to get close to them? So close that they trust him, that they like him or _care_  for him, so that when he tells them how wrong and disgusting Jean is, they _believe_  him...

"Jean?" Armin's voice filters back in, and Jean realises he's been tripping over his own feet, and that his hands are hot and sticky in a way that should make him worry. Armin's brows are furrowed as he glances over, and Bertl's frowning down at him as he meets their eyes. "Are you listening?"

"Uh, yes, I... What?" He smiles, like he's trying to make it a joke, but they don't grant him that mercy.

"We were talking about the people who joined us," Armin explains. "Nice, weren't they?"

Jean doesn't know. He spoke to only one of them, and that one he _knows_  isn't nice, knows is anything but- but he can't say that.

"Sure," he mumbles. He looks back down.

"You were very quiet tonight," Bertl, of _all_  people, says, and Armin makes a sound in agreement.

"I'm just- tired. You know."

"You looked pretty shattered at training this afternoon," Armin adds.

"W-well, yeah. Exactly."

Armin touches his shoulder, and he pulls away immediately, head shooting up so fast he almost knocks into Bertl. Armin frowns, deeper, and asks, "Are you okay?"

Jean shifts his eyes to the side, recalling the discussion Armin had had with the guy about potential advancements in 3DMG, and says, "Yes, I'm fine. Everything's fine."

They don't speak much more after that.

\--

Sleep does not come easy that night. When he goes to the bathroom and finally uncurls his fists he realises his nails have dug deep into his skin - it hurts to pull them back, and his nausea only grows as he sees the weeping red crescents embedded on his skin. He washes his hands and has to dig around his stuff for some spare bandages he snagged off the nurse a while back, and carefully wraps his palms enough so that the redness doesn't seep through. Armin and Bertl and some of the other boys around chat a little: about the new strategy, how well it will go, then lighter topics like how everyone's dinner was and what this one boy should do about this one girl he got off with the other night, and it reeks of normality and little things Jean wishes he could care about, and he ends up telling them he's exhausted and going straight to bed.

Maybe he is really exhausted, or maybe he feels more certain that the guy isn't going to creep up on his immediately in his sleep, because it only takes a few hours to sleep, not all night. He hears the other boys chatter, and disappear off to shower, and the rest of his friends come in, and more banter between them all. His ears twitch a little when they mention him - Reiner sees him supposedly asleep, and asks them about him, and Armin just replies that Jean was tired. Then everyone makes some comments about that, and how he was at dinner - Jean cringes into his pillow - and then Connie starts going off about the guys they met, and thankfully sleep swallows Jean just in time.

Well, Jean's only thankful in those moments when he drifts off. His sleep is dreamless for some time - proving he really was exhausted, after all - but it doesn't last forever, as much as he wishes it would. The guy creeps into his dreams slowly - memories of shoulder-touches and knee-squeezes and a smirk, and narrowed eyes, and laughter, echoing. It's vivid and brief and Jean's constantly twisting around, trying to find this guy, trying to _stop_  him, but the guy's never there, just his laughter as footsteps skitter round his mind. The same terror of that night pervades this mess of the senses, and it only intensifies when the touches pass the area of this night and lurk towards what happened that night and the guy, because suddenly Jean can see him, is tall and hulking and laughing, he keeps laughing, and he keeps saying, _you think they'd believe you, Jean? You, over me? Do you really think that's gonna happen?_

He's sweating and shaking and shivering when he bolts upright, almost hitting his head on the ceiling above. He's panting, and crying, and he thinks he's going to be sick, and luckily it seems to be the middle of the night and everyone's asleep, so he grabs his pillow and scurries to the bathroom, where he throws up the meager fare he had for dinner, tries to clean his face up a bit, then sits against the wall, knowing he won't go back to sleep, and wedges the pillow between his chest and his legs.

It had felt so _real_ , and Jean supposes it was, in a sense, since it has all happened before. The guy hadn't spoken those exact words to him, but near enough, and the echoes of them keep rattling his bones, and he doesn't know how to make them stop. He doesn't know how to make anything stop, he doesn't know _anything_ , except he's alone at night in the boys' bathroom and he's scared, but he's just as scared at the prospect of returning to bed and trying to sleep, and he's scared to have breakfast or lunch or dinner in the dining hall, he's scared to use his 3DMG because every move makes every place hurt, and he doesn't think he'll ever feel safe again.

He buries his head in his pillow and weeps for a long time. He's weak, god, he _knows_  he is, but if he does this now he won't do it anywhere else, like in front of his friends, or in front of the guy. If he lets all the emotion out now, he can focus all his energy later on trying to appear normal, unaffected. If he does this now, no one will know.

In the end, he goes back and grabs his clothes so that he can have a shower and change before the rest of the boys wake up. As the sun rises, he sits on his bunk and watches the room lighten in degrees; pretends he's reading when the others wake up; and manages to deflect all questions about why he's already showered and dressed. At breakfast, he's surrounded by Ymir, Sasha, and Mikasa, and though at one point he hears the guy's voice greeting his friends from right behind him, making him flinch so badly Sasha _and_  Mikasa start staring, he's able to avoid awkward questions and tide off any concerns about his apparent quietness the night before with the usual 'just tired' excuse. He takes on look at his porridge and is almost sick again - he manages to get Sasha to swap bowls when everyone's talking, and though she asks him if he's okay she ignores his weird behaviour and takes the food, and Jean's able to breathe just a little easier.

Training's a little easier today - they go horseriding, which is vaguely unpleasant but not life-ruining, and study and practise with their swords, which is kind of fun after a while, then they start going over some 3DMG moves that they'll be trying out the coming Friday. Lunch wasn't too bad, either; the guy never showed up, and no one really mentioned him, and though Jean didn't feel necessarily _safe_ , he felt more relaxed than he had in a while - he even ate a bread roll. Well, he thinks he did. He's not so sure, actually.

Dinner, again, is difficult, because at dinner, again, the guy and his friends join Jean and his friends. Jean's sat between Ymir and Connie, and Eren's on the edge, next to the guy, who had given Jean the sickest smirk when he'd sat there. Ymir keeps hollering over Jean to the other guys, and Connie's desperate to crack jokes that will make them all laugh, and the guy keeps whispering stuff to Eren that makes them both look in his direction and so Jean ends up trying to keep his eyes on the table, always having to check, however, that the guy's not made off with any of his friends - that everyone else is still safe. He's not sure how it looks, but Ymir nudges him at one point and asks him why he's so paranoid.

 _That_  gets everyone's attention on him, even when he insists he's not, but the guy takes the opportunity to look concerned and ask, "I've heard it's gonna be a pretty big day tomorrow - sure you're not going to eat that all up?"

Jean had almost forgot there was a meal sitting before him - stew, he thinks, brown and lumpy, and he picks up his fork after a second to poke at it. It looks disgusting, and the smell is off-putting, and eating because the guy is telling him to dredges up other memories of doing worse things, and it's so unrelated because this is _dinner_  and that is...what it is, and dinner shouldn't remind him of it, shouldn't make him take a few deep breathes and put the fork back down - but it does.

"Yeah, Jean," Sasha pipes up just as he does this. "You really shouldn't waste all that food, you know!"

Everyone's staring. Why is everyone staring? Weren't they all involved in their own little conversations not two minutes ago? Why all the focus on Jean, when all he was doing was...nothing? When all he was doing was trying _not_  to get any attention?

He picks the fork back up. The guy's trying to humiliate him, but he's not going to let that happen, because that guy has no...no _power_  over him, not here, not surrounded by his friends when he's just trying to have dinner... So he scoops some of the stew up, and places a bite in his mouth, and actually manages to get it down and he looks at the guy but he's not even watching, anymore, just talking to Eren like they're great friends or something.

So Jean eats some more. And some more. And in only a few minutes he's done, but his hands are shaking, and the fork clips the plate when he sets it on the table, and the overwhelming sense of nausea means he's done something wrong.

Still, he sits a few minutes more, staring at his empty plate and ocassionally checking that everyone's alright, trying to repress whatever wants to make him force back up everything he just ate.

"Hey, man, is everything alright? You look a little pale." That's Connie, suddenly paying attention to him again, and he's frowning a little when Jean lifts his head with almost Herculaneum effort to meet his eyes.

"I... Yeah, no, I just...feel a bit sick." His voice sounds strained, and weary, and Jean clears his throat like it'll make any difference. It makes his feel even sicker, actually. "I think I'm going to go back."

"You know, I can take you along to the nurse if you're not feeling too good," the guy offers up, and Jean squeezes his eyes shut like the guy will magically disappear with his vision, but of course he doesn't: "We're quite close, so I can probably get you a solo room-"

Jean would rather die. "No, it's fine!" he says, maybe a little too quickly - Eren's raising his eyebrows and Reiner's cocking his head to the side like he doesn't understand. "No, I'd rather go with a friend. If that's..." It's the first time they've held eye contact for more than a second since that night; as the guy's eyes narrow and his lips thin, Jean finds himself having to look back down at his plate. "If that's alright with you."

"Are you sure, Kirschtein? I'm sure the nurse would be happy to help if I-"

"It's fine!" he repeats, loudly, and grinds his teeth. "I'll just- I'll just go back to the barracks, it'll be fine."

It's quiet for a moment - when he looks back up, everyone's sharing glances like _wow, what is up with this freak_ , and Jean is _this_  close to physically throwing up right there and then when Connie offers, "I'll come with you, yeah? And make sure you're alright."

Jean breathes out in relief. Connie's not the strongest, or the brightest, but he's one of the fastest and _surely_  the guy won't come after Jean if Connie's there, right? Connie's not strong, or bright, and being fast wouldn't really help in this situation, and Connie would probably be on the guy's side, considering how close they seem to be, but... But, surely... Surely the guy won't come after him...because it would look suspicious, right? If Jean left and the guy came after him. People would notice that. People would say things.

Wouldn't they?

"Are you coming or not?" Connie's on his feet and off the bench already - Jean follows as quickly as he can, but finds he has to grab Connie's shoulder to stay upright. "Whoa, mate, you're worse than I thought - c'mon, let's go sort you out." He slips his arm round Jean's waist, and the action nearly makes him wince but he holds it back, and they make off out the dining hall.

Jean's having difficulty putting one foot in front of the other, and his vision is swimming, all the colours and textures and sounds of everything blurring into one another, and he thinks the only way he makes it through is because Connie's there.

Of course, Connie also starts trying to tug him off to the nurse, and Jean has to stand his ground - and physically stand still, if only to clear his vision - and tell him, "No, I'm going to the barracks, Connie."

"C'mon, mate, there's obviously something wrong, we gotta get you checked out!" Connie's doing this for Jean's sake, but he really can't appreciate it - if Jean goes to the nurse, they'll start asking questions, and looking at him, and figure out what happened to him and then what'll happen? What if, even then, no one believes him? Because why would they believe him, what credibility does he need for them to believe him?

They're never going to believe him; Jean's not going to the nurse, and even in his deteriorated state, he pulls away from Connie and says, "I'm going back to the barracks, okay? It'll be fine!"

"How do you know that? What if this- what if this is the start to some horrific disease that can only be cured at the start? What if this is because of the stew and that means other people are affected? What if-! What if this is... Uhh... I mean, the nurse has comfier beds than the barracks, at least!"

"I'm _not_  going to the nurse," Jean insists, still trying to pull his arm from Connie's grip - Connie's really holding on tight, and some of his fingers press against old bruises, and Jean clenches his teeth with every tug, and every surge of pain that shoots through his arm from time to time. "Just-just take me to the barracks, Connie."

Connie sighs, muttering, "You're really missing out, mate," and drags him back; they're in one spot for two seconds before Jean's back in the bathroom, puking his dinner or more likely his entire set of internal organs out into the toilet. He doesn't even have the privacy from before - Connie's trailed in behind him, and there are other guys back from dinner, trying to do their business or shower, and Jean keeps coughing and spluttering and rejecting anything he's ever had in his stomach _ever_  as these guys all watch.

It's better, at least, than going to the nurse's. It's better than staying at that dinner table with that guy and his friends. He can handle it.

When he's done, his throat is raw and his head is screaming and his fingers keep trembling - Connie wets a small washcloth and cleans him up, since he's apparently unable to, and guides him to his bunk, where he's able to change without much difficulty and collapses into bed.

After a half hour or so, the guys come back in - Reiner and Armin both come along to check he's okay, and he assures them he is, even though his head is burning up and his feet are freezing. There's the usual banter before bed, and quick scurries off to shower or the loo, and then the shifting of bodies as they try to get comfy on the bed - then slow, steady breathing across the entire barracks.

Jean stays awake all night.

\--

He misses breakfast. He tells the others he'll be along in a few, since a couple hours ago he got tired of being afraid of things that move in the dark and had a shower and got changed, but in the minutes it takes for them to leave, he falls into a fitful doze, and awakens to see everyone's getting ready for the day of training, and Armin's on the ladder shaking his shoulder and telling him they're doing more combat practise in the afternoon.

In the morning: more lessons. After some of the girls and Eren ascertain Jean's doing alright - he's not sure he is, but he's gotten good at pretending lately - they all sit in front of some squad leader explaining how to cooperate with your team and how to be a good leader and a good follower and the kind of moves and tricks you can pull off with different combinations of soldiers. He even explains what would happen if you were in a squad with Eren, which should be interesting, but again Jean finds himself drifting off for a few seconds, having flashes of vivid dreams - nightmares, maybe - before startling awake again.

Jean's eyes keep growing heavy, no matter how many times Connie and Sasha nudge him, and every time he fully awakens, his heart's racing and his neck sweating from whatever it is he saw in those five-second flashes of half-sleep. He does everything - doodles, drags his hands through his hair, digs his nails into the bandage-covered crescents from before, but nothing seems to stop him from dozing, not even the squad leader's few reprimands.

They do chores from eleven to one, which wouldn't be so bad if everything didn't make Jean feel queasy, or every bit of menial labour didn't feel like trying to move a mountain, and lunch comes as a relief.

Until, of course, the soup, hot and pungent-smelling, is placed before him, and he has to nurse a glass of water the entire time whilst pressing a hand to his head and hoping the sickness just _goes away_. People might try and talk to him, but he keeps flickering in and out of consciousness and seeing fading images of things that haunt him during the night and by the time two o'clock comes, he doesn't really remember having a proper lunch period at all.

Combat turns out to be a fucking joke: he can't take a punch from Armin, Mikasa refuses to fight him, Eren keeps trying to _talk_ , and Jean ends up on his back in half a second when Connie and Sasha decide to bowl him over from opposite directions. His back hurts like a bitch; his head hurts like a bitch; his stomach, his throat, every little bruise that's still staining his body and every little cut that hasn't yet healed - they're all disproportionately agonising and he keeps having to clutch at his head, like he's trying to get a better grip of his sanity, except it's not working.

It culminates in this: some boy Jean's seen around but never speaks to wallops him in the face; and for a second, he's completely out of touch with reality, and his vision is black and he suddenly has no idea what's happening - and when he opens his eyes, he's on the ground and his back keeps _hurting_  and the boy is crouched over him demanding, _did you faint? Did you just faint? Oh my god, I need to get you to the nurse, oh my-_

"Shut up!" Jean hisses, trying to sit up - his vision tilts, but he sits straight nonetheless. "Shut up, I'm fine, just keep- keep sparring with me, okay?"

"Are you kidding me? Mate, I need to get you to the nurse, or else she'll have a fucking _fit_ -"

"I'm not going to the nurse! It didn't happen, okay, I was out for like a second, no one noticed!"

"You were out for like a full minute! And _all_  your friends noticed, one of them's coming over!" The boy points, and Jean's able to spot a small form with blonde hair approaching. It's only til they're maybe a metre away that he realises it's Christa, and she settles delicately to her knees next to him, eyebrows furrowed as she looks over him.

"Is everything alright, Jean?"

"Yes, I'm fine! You didn't need to come over here!" As he speaks, he tries to stand himself up - but the boy at the side grabs his shoulder as if to pull him up, and Jean crumples with a hiss. "Christ, just- just leave me alone."

"No, Jean, there's obviously something wrong - do you want me to take you to the nurse?" She lays a hand on his wrist, and he snatches it away from her without thinking.

"I said the same thing, but he wouldn't let me!" the other boy exclaims. "Said I should keep fighting him!"

Christa purses her lips together. "Jean, I don't think you're in a state to keep fighting."

"I said I'm fine, didn't I? So I'm fine!"

She sighs. "Obviously not, or you wouldn't have fainted like that. Why don't you just let me take you to the nurse and she can give you something, okay? Then you'll feel better, and can fight tomorrow."

He doesn't think he'll ever feel better. "She won't be able to help," he mutters, doubting there's something that can erase some of your memories entirely.

"S-sorry? What do you mean?" Christa asks, pressing closer.

"I-I mean that-" Jean pauses, trying to think of a plausible excuse for his slip up. "I just mean, I just, haven't been sleeping well, so I just...have to sleep more. Is all."

"Hmm." She doesn't look convinced, arms cross and frowning, but she also isn't telling him to go to the nurse's any more, which can only be a relief. "You haven't been eating much, either."

"Yes I have!"

"Really?" She smiles sadly at him. "At lunch, you didn't touch your soup once; you weren't at breakfast; last night, you threw up everything you ate and _more_ , according to Connie; yesterday lunch, you-"

"Okay, I get it!" he says. "It's not that big a deal. It's fine."

"I'm not so sure it is, Jean. Surely you should talk to someone?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

She shakes her head, sighing. "If you're so determined to fight, why don't we start sparring - we have at least another hour left, and we can spar together for twenty minutes, at most."

"I don't-" Jean splutters. "I don't need you _coddling_  me!"

"I'm not coddling you," she replies, standing and helping him to his feet. "I'm letting you stay out here instead of taking you to the nurse's." She raises her eyebrows, and, even though he's still angry and still miserable and still bone-weary, he stands down, and lets her talk him through her tactics.

After sparring, which he does with Christa, Ymir, and some other small, weak boy, Christa trails him all the way to the barracks.

"I need to make sure you're taking care of yourself," she tells him.

"You need to make sure you know you're fucking boundaries," Jean grumbles back. "Girls aren't even allowed in there."

"Actually, girls are allowed in the boys' barracks; it's vice versa that's not allowed."

Jean thinks about it for a moment, then dismisses it. "Whatever. You don't need to come either way."

"If I don't, who'll make sure you're sleeping alright? All those friends of ours you haven't said anything to about this?"

"They didn't ask!"

"Because I _told_  them not to! Do you understand me?"

It echoes too much of someone else's words, said in a far darker tone - Jean pushes the memories back, and mutters, "Yeah."

She smiles brightly, and says nothing for the rest of the journey.

Jean must be past the point of thinking clearly in his exhaustion - his mind keeps running wild theories on what Christa's planning, or if she'll figure it out, or if she'll hate him, or if she's in cahoots with the guy and this is some set-up, and these thoughts run circles in his mind, never diverting, only ensnaring other random thoughts or people he sees into this scheme his brain thinks Christa's running, and he's too tired to think otherwise.

He actually sleeps when he gets into bed. Christa inspects the bunk opposite, then clambers to the top and sits there, watching as he collapses onto his bed after climbing the ladder. It takes too much effort, makes him exhausted, and he sleeps. Just like that.

He sleeps, but not well, never well. The same nightmares that haunt him return - he doesn't have enough energy, not even in this dreamworld, to fight them off, and he can't wake up either, so he just has to endure the voice echoing round his head and the touches he can never escape and this persistent, dreading fear that exists in every crevice of his body, that lingers like dirt under his fingernails.

" _Why are you so scared, Jean?_ " the voice mocks him. " _There's nothing to be scared of here. Come on, Jean, what's wrong? Jean? Jean, c'mon, wake up_!"

Something's grabbing at his arm, a hand on his shoulder, and for a second he's still trapped in the nightmare even as he awakens - eyes clenched shut he tries to yank the hands away from him, ends up yelling, "Get _off_ , get off me, what are you doing here?!"

"Jean?" It's Ymir, dangling off the ladder and leaning back, hanging onto the edge with one hand as she pulls away. "You alright?"

It's Ymir, only Ymir, just Ymir. _Just Ymir_ , he thinks, taking deep breaths as he sits up. "What time's it?"

"Dinner," she says. "Christa went for a shower, an' asked me to watch over you a while. Said you weren't sleeping good." Ymir tilts her head and squints at him. "What you dreaming 'bout, Kirschtein? Didn't sound fun."

"Wasn't dreaming about anything."

Ymir laughs, but it's a harsh sound as she leaps off the ladder so he can come down. "Yeah, an' what was all that sleep-talk, huh?"

Jean swallows as he steps back onto the ground, leaving a hand on the ladder to keep himself steady. His headache has not died down one bit. "Wh-what sleep-talk?"

Ymir raises an eyebrow, and starts walking. Jean sighs, then follows. " _All_  of it, Jeanny," she says. "You doin' alright?"

"I'm doing fine," he mutters, crossing his arms. "What was I saying?"

"Weird-ass shit, hell if I know what it was about," Ymir answers, waving a hand in the air. "Sounded scared, though. Thinkin' 'bout Trost again?"

What a perfect excuse. "Y-yeah," he says. "I just- yeah, yeah."

She casts him a glance, but otherwise says no more as they go to the dining table, evidently the last ones of their group to get there. Jean's vision's cleared up a little due to the sleep, but his thoughts are all over the place and he can't offer a straight answer to anything people ask him. His friends all look concerned, and when the guy and his friends show up, smiling and waving, Reiner turns to them and asks if they can sit somewhere, just this once.

Jean barely catches it. Two hours' sleep is not enough to make up a whole night, let alone all the sleep that's been fucked up due to his nightmares. He drifts off, again and again, into the restless sleep he'd experienced during class, and every time he startles back into consciousness, he has to look around, re-establish where he is, and who's with him, and that the guy isn't there.

"Jean? Jean! Jean, are you listening?" Sasha reaches for his shoulder, then seems to think better of it and taps his arm. "Jean-bo, we all wanted to a have a wee chat with you."

Jean frowns, shaking his head then stopping when he realises it turns everything into a blurry mess, and grabs his water. When he's downed half the cup, he says, "Why?"

"Something's wrong," Mikasa says, from where she's sitting opposite and a little further down from Jean. Her elbows rest against the table, and she's impassive as always as she stares.

"Yeah," he replies, "something's always wrong. If it's not titans knowing down the walls it's Marco dying; if it's not Marco dying it's half the corps dying on a fuck-up of an expedition; if it's not that it's-"

" _Jean_ ," Mikasa interrupts, "we're worried about _you_."

They're not supposed to be. "Don't be," he tells them.

"We don't really have a choice," Christa says. "You've been off all day; _really_  off."

"And you were sick as hell yesterday," Connie adds.

"You haven't been eating well," Sasha offers.

"And I bet you're not sleeping right, either," Ymir mutters from her end.

All nine pairs of eyes around him are staring at him: Eren's are green and blazing and Mikasa's are grey and detached and Armin's are blue and observant. Jean wishes he could dissolve into thin air; escape this conversation, even this _world_ , without a trace.

"I'm fine," he tells them. Ymir snorts.

"Yeah?" she asks. "It's been half an hour and you haven't taken a god damn bite o' that."

"I'm not hungry."

"Is that so."

They're still staring at him, and it feels like a physical weight on his back - like rocks piling up on his shoulders, maybe like every person in the room is watching and waiting for his reaction, to reveal himself, to _humiliate_  himself. But he's fine.

"I'm fine," he reiterates, and Mikasa heaves a sigh.

"Are you sure, though?" Connie asks.

"Yes, I'm sure!" he exclaims, and even when he has all this extra weight on his back he manages to rip himself from the table, off the bench, and on his own two feet, even if the world is spinning a little. "Why do you keep asking me these things? I said I'm fine, so I'm fine, okay? I don't need you- _checking_  on me all the time like I can't fucking handle myself! Just- just leave me alone, alright?!"

"Jean, wait-"

Jean stampedes down the hall without a second thought - it only hits him when he's in the corridor that he's _alone_ , and he caused a scene, and someone could come out and find him and he should go back, he should definitely go back because what if something _does_  happen?

He takes another step, and falters - another one- and footsteps, down the hall, behind him. Getting closer. Right behind him, and a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, pushing down, jolting- Jean bites his lip so he doesn't make a sound, and his fists clench unconsciously.

"What's got you down today, Jeanny?" He flinches, horribly, and the guy lets out a chuckle that creeps down Jean's spine like poison, paralysing him. "Caused a bit of a scene there, didn't you?"

"N-no," he replies, but his voice is so quiet and he's shaking all over, and the guy presses against his back and laughs right in his ear, causing goosebumps to rise and spread across him. A hand slides across his waist, down his hip, down further and Jean trembles - and lands on his thigh, and the guy exacerbates another old bruise as he moves his other hand - the one that had been on Jean's shoulder - to wrap round his neck.

"What's wrong, Jeanny? Or do you prefer _Jean-bo_?" the guy sneers. "Feelin' choked up, are we?"

The hand on his throat begins to press in, constricting his airways bit by bit, and Jean's already on the verge of passing out, he thinks, because he can't focus on anything but the fear coursing through his veins and the fact that he's not getting enough air, it feels like he isn't getting any air at _all_. His head's thumping and he can hear the rush of blood in his ears and the way the guy keeps laughing at him and he's so cold but his hands feel hot and he's clenching his hands so hard he can feel the bandage he put on a few days ago begin to disintegrate.

"Somethin' wrong, sweetheart?" the guy simpers.

Jean tries to answer, but he can't breathe, he can't think and he can't breathe, and he might be crying, he honestly can't tell, can only vaguely register the corridor in front of him swimming and going black and grey then back in colour, like it can't make up its mind. There's pain in his thigh and his shoulder, and fingers pressing into his chest and hurting him there, too, and then the guy's hand drifts back, towards his ass, and he's torn between throwing up and passing out when the guy lets him go and returns to the pits of hell he came from.

"Oi, Jaeger!" the guy says pleasantly. "I wasn't able to talk him into goin' to the nurse, but have a good shot at it, alright?"

Eren's voice, a little distant, replies, "I'll try!" And one pair of footsteps recede, and another come closer again.

"Jean? Jesus, Jean, we leave you alone for two minutes!" Eren's face is there, distorted and blurred, and hands clamp down on Jean's waist just as he feels himself tipping over. He jumps anyway, tries to get Eren to let go, but he can barely feel any of his limbs, can barely feel anything except pain, and he knows if Eren lets go he's going face-first to the floor.

He tries to speak, but his voice is a croak and he coughs, gagging horribly. His face is warm, and wet. Definitely crying.

"Alright, Jean, just...tell me what's wrong, okay? Then we can take you along to the nurse."

He has enough presence of mind to shake his head rapidly, even if he starts leaning heavily to the side and Eren needs to prop him up against the wall.

"Alright, alright! I won't, then. I'll do it myself, my dad told me how. He was a doctor. I can help you."

 _No, you can't_ , Jean thinks, but the world is twisting terribly now and he can't put it into words.

"C'mon, tell me what's up, otherwise I'll have to take you to the nurse."

"I can't-" he chokes out, barely audible. "I can't breathe-!"

The phantom of the guy's hand keeps pressing against his throat; holds it tighter, presses in further, and he swears he can feel it strangling him even when he knows there's nothing there.

_There's nothing there, Jean._

"You can't...? Okay, just, just... Just do this for me, alright..." Eren starts straightening him out, pushing his shoulders against the wall in a way that make croak out in pain, then presses a hand to the small of his back and whilst raising his chin, de-hunching Jean before raising his arms above his head. "One breath at a time, Jean, with me." He starts breathing loudly and slowly, but it's something to focus on, and the air can get in much easier now. "There, you got it, you can let your arms down now." He does so, hesitantly, and opens his eyes without the memory of ever closing them. Eren's right in front of his face, peering at him and frowning. "Are you alright for now? Can we make it to the barracks?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, I can-" He swallows, pressing his hands against the wall to set himself fully upright. Eren grabs his waist, and, like Connie had done the night before, tows him back to the barracks.

"You really need to start eating, mate," Eren mutters as they walk. "Otherwise you're going to start fainting all over the place and then, like, your stomach starts eating your muscles for energy."

Jean frowns, and Eren continues, "Yeah, it's pretty disgusting, so you need to start eating again or else you'll start fucking up in training."

"Aren't I already," he asks dully, as they enter the barracks.

"You've only made a few mistakes," Eren placates him. "If you start sorting yourself out, we can just pretend you were sick and no one'll think anything of it." They reach his bunk, and Eren says, "'Kay, why don't you lie down and I'm going to fetch a couple things from the nurse - anything specific you want treating?"

At this point, he might as well get _something_  fixed. "I have a really bad headache," he replies, "a-and I can't sleep well."

"Okay," Eren says, extending a hand towards him before snatching it back, "I won't be too long."

Jean nods, and waits for Eren to leave the room before pressing his aching head against the wood of the ladder. What a shite evening. What a shite _day_. Half the time he's bone-tired; the rest, he feels like he's going insane. And _Eren Jaeger_ , of all people, trying to patch him up? Are the endtimes coming? Or has Jean gone completely insane?

He summons up what remains of his tattered strength to reach his bunk, and falls in a heap over the blankets. All his bruises are hurting again, and he can't find a comfortable position - he ends up flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, half-awake and making patterns in the planks overhead.

Eren doesn't take too long - or does he? Jean's completely lost track of time - but before he knows it, Eren's on the ladder, asking Jean to shift along so Eren can sit up there with him. Jean presses himself against one side, and Eren spreads out various pill bottles and plasters and creams on one bit, then kneels by his chest.

"'Kay," Eren says. "You want to sit up for a sec so you can take these?" Eren rattles one of the bottles, pouring out two pills, and hands them over. Jean swallows them as instructed, then water is thrust upon him and he takes a good few sips. "That should help with the headache. She also made tea, to help with sleep...but maybe we should leave that for last, yeah?" Jean shrugs. "Alright, well, I'm going to have to check your heart rate, alright? So off with your shirt."

Jean clutches the water close to his chest. "Wh-what? Why do I have to take my shirt off?"

"Better to hear it," Eren answer, shrugging. "C'mon, I'm trying to help you."

"No! Can't you take my pulse or something?"

"Not as effective."

Jean scowls, but he's not really in the frame of mind to argue further. All he wants to do is sleep, now, and hopefully that tea will help him, and he can only have the tea if he goes around these other obstacles first.

Jean hopes the bruises don't look too awful.

He starts undoing his shirt - his fingers tremble, though, and his nails are bloody, and eventually Eren clucks his tongue and does it himself, snapping each button out the hole quickly, until Jean's shirt's undone and all he has to do is slip it off his chest. He has to swallow, has to look around to ascertain there are boys other than Eren here, before he can take it off.

Eren intakes a sharp breath of air, and Jean stares at the water in his hand. Fingers brush across his shoulder, his hips, an old bruise running along his ribs - he anticipates the question, but still winces when he gets it: "What the hell happened, Jean?"

"It's just...from training," he replies. "Like sparring, a-and 3DMG."

"Is it?" Eren asks. "These...kind of look like fingertips... Am I seeing things? Or is it..." Eren touches his hand to the bruise on Jean's hip, even as he tries to shift away from it, then twists his hand and mutters as he tries to fit it.

"Look," Jean says, "I thought you were checking my heart rate."

"Yeah, but...those are pretty unmissable." Jean glances at his own shoulder - the bruise is still black and purple, due to people hitting it all the time, and yeah, it is pretty hideous.

"It's nothing," he insists. "Probably happens all the time."

"Probably?" Eren repeats. "No, look, my hand totally fits that mark." Jean doesn't look. "How'd that happen?"

"Sparring," Jean mutters, shifting his eyes to the side. "It's nothing."

"You're not a good liar, Jean."

"Leave it alone! If you want to check my fucking heart rate, fucking do it already or you can fucking leave." The sentence leaves him panting, and he gulps down some more water. His headache's receding, barely, and every now and then a wave of dizziness hits him and forces him to focus on staying upright.

Eren glares at him. "I'm trying to help you! You've been weird for days, I thought I could fix you up a bit, alright?"

"There's nothing to fix! I'm fine!"

"Fine?" Eren shakes his head. "You were _just_  having a panic attack, Jean, you were literally about to pass out on the spot. That's not 'fine'!"

"Why do you even care, Jaeger? You hate me. You've never cared about me before. You think I'm a selfish asshole who- who probably _deserves_  this. Why are you helping?"

Eren stares at him, cocking his head to the side and frowning. "I don't hate you, idiot," he murmurs. "I just- don't agree with you, sometimes. No one deserves this."

Does Eren know what he's talking about? What that means to Jean? He says Jean doesn't deserve this, but then again, he has no idea what _did_  happen to Jean. If he knew, he'd say he did. If he knew, it'd be a diferent story...

"Can't you just- ignore it, please?"

Eren sighs, then lets go of him. "Alright, but only 'cause you asked, and I'm not going to do anything that you don't want me to do, alright? I'm not a bloody heathen."

 _A heathen..._  At lunch today, Jean vaguely remembers some of his friends talking about how cool and funny the new guys who sat next to them were. Especially the guy who keeps sitting right next to them. So cool, so funny, so...not heathen-ish.

Eren will never believe him.

But still: "What if... What if you did want someone to do something," Jean tries, stuttering a little as Eren lies him back down and presses his ear to his chest. When he sits up, he's frowning, probably because Jean's heart is racing in fear and anxiety. "A-and you made it clear to them, b-but then when it did happen...or started happening...you realised you didn't want it a-anymore. What should... What would- Is that f-fair? Is that okay?"

Eren squints as he leans in again. "What are you on about, Kirschtein?"

"I'm just- I'm just asking."

"Well, I mean, alright, if you want to do it you do it; but if you don't want to do it anymore, no one's allowed to force you."

"They're not?" he asks. "Even though you asked for it?"

"Look, Kirschtein, do you keep eating when you're full? No, you eat what you can and then you apologise and say you can't finish anymore, because you don't want anymore. You understand?"

He's never looked at it that way. "I suppose so."

Eren shakes his head again. "Jesus, you're so... Ugh, whatever. You heartrate's a bit irregular, so yeah, you're obviously a bit sick. Did those pills do the trick?"

"I feel a little better."

"A little... 'Kay, well, if you're not going to let me fix those bruises, let me at least have a look at your hands."

"My hands? Why?"

"Don't think I can't see the shite job you did of trying to wrap them up. C'mon, let me see."

Jean frowns, sitting up before hesitantly offering his hands to Eren. His fingers are trembling, god, it's so obvious, and there are specks of red seeping through the bandages on both hands and there's blood and dirt beneath his nails and Eren taking hold of one hand and thinning his lips, unwrapping the bandage to reveal the four reddish-brown crescents, cemented with blood.

Eren hisses out, "The hell do you manage this shit, Jean?"

He keeps his eyes on his own legs and mutters, "It was an accident."

"An accident? Whatever, Jean, it's a fucking mess. Let me see..." Eren thumbs around a bit, delicately touching his fingers to the cuts and frowning when he comes away with blood, then looks at the stuff he brought with him. He then takes Jean's water without fucking asking and dabs a paper towel in it; squeezing it out, he rubs away at Jean's hands, for a good few minutes, until all the old blood is removed and the crescents are cut clear as day on his skin. Eren keeps making quiet, sullen noises, but doesn't say anything as he reaches for an ointment and squirts it over Jean's hands, patting it into his skin before wrapping his hands up again, properly, this time, and tying them neatly at the side.

Jean dadn't realised Eren was so experienced with this sort of thing. He's rather imagined Mikasa or Armin as being better at it.

Eren sighs heavily, staring at Jean's hands, and eventually says, "There's not much left but the tea, to be honest. Where's your pyjama top?"

Jean snags it out from under his pillow, and hesitantly sitting back up, he pulls it on, glad to be able to cover himself once more.

"Right, here you go." Eren passes him a mug of hot, steaming tea that tastes a little bitter, but warms him up, and he downs it in two minutes. "The nurse says it shouldn't take too long to set in, so you want to change out of your trousers, yeah?"

Jean nods, still feeling hazy, and Eren takes the mug from him and goes down the ladder to set it on the ground. Jean fumbles with his trousers, glancing furtively around to make sure nothing's going to happen, and grabs his pyjama trousers from beneath his pillow before he takes his own trousers off. Eren's gone for half a second - but he pops up just as Jean pulls his pyjamas up his legs, not fast enough for Eren to lash out with his arm, causing Jean to flinch, and point at the bruises marring Jean's thighs.

They might be the worst. Icky black, blue, purple, getting browner and greener around them, and even in the mess you can make out the hands, every finger that had grabbed his legs and forced him open even as he resisted, as he fought back with as much strength as he could muster - so he lifts his hips and yanks the trousers on as fast as possible, hiding under the duvet as Eren starts talking.

"Jean, what the fuck. What the fuck, Jean, that is _not_  normal, Jean, the hell were those? Those looked like- like on your hips- what the fuck? Jean, c'mon, mate, tell me, Jean, please-"

Jean presses his hand to his head. He's exhausted, and for once he can feel sleep coming, and he says, "You said you wouldn't make me do anything I didn't want to, okay? A-and I don't want to talk and th-this...so just...go away."

Eren crosses his arms and glares, but he as no reply, so Jean lies down and turns his back to him. It takes him five minutes to fall asleep, this time, but he doesn't hear a sound from Eren once.

This sleep, however, is not dreamless - before, nightmares couldn't last long, couldn't delve deep enough before he'd wake back up. This time, it's like a weight holding him down, like the tea that led him to sleep has now led him to some kind of paralysis, of lethargy. This time, he sleeps for a long time, and his nightmares are able to play out every encounter with the guy in full detail, on repeat. Jean's stuck, lost, enduring the same things again and again and unable to stop them, unable to wake himself up, the tea was supposed to help him sleep but now it's like iron chains on his wrists and it's not letting him wake up, it's not saving him the way he hoped it might.

He can't even scream.

\--

He wakes, though. He's alone in the barracks, for some reason, but with the haze of sleep still clinging to his eyelashes, he doesn't realise it at first - instead, he's shaking all over and his limbs feel stiff and his face is cold and wet. It's...not morning, actually - the sun is cutting shapes through the window, throwing shadows across the floor, and the clock on the wall says it's nearly midday, which means... Which means no one woke him up and he's missed training! Why the fuck would they do that? Oh god, christ, well, he can't make morning training now, but he can at least change and apologise, spend lunch during chores to make up for it then...some more 3DMG practise in the afternoon.

Oh, god. What a mess. The sleep didn't even help - the nightmares make it feel like he hasn't slept at all, and he almost slips on his way down the ladder as exhaustion hits him. And again, bent over his chest, trying to get all his gear and a clean pair of underwear out. Again, when his arms are caught in his sleeves and he only catches himself when his shoulder hits the bunk.

It keeps coming, and coming, and it doesn't let go as he aims for a stride and ends up stumbling, wiping at his eyes and drying his cheeks, barely fixing his hair as he hurries to leave this room - this room, where he's _all alone_  - to find the 104th. It doesn't take long - he just has to listen for Eren's titan screeches and follow them til he sees his group, all standing a good ways back from Eren as Hanji gestures extravagantly to them.

Bertholdt sees him first - probably the height thing, right? - and frowns, shaking his head. He nudges Reiner, who turns to look, eyebrows raising when he sees Jean coming towards them. Jean hesitates as he reaches the outskirts of the group, as the reaction ripples outward from the initial duo to the rest of their friends, then the rest of the boys, people glancing over and squinting at him like they all know something. Do they know something? What could they possibly know...?

No one tries to talk to him, although both Sasha and Connie stare and gesture at him several times, and even Mikasa looks concerned, but he lingers away from them and listens as Hanji rounds up their talk on Eren and lets everyone go off to lunch. Jean's friends are starting towards him, and Hanji's going to Eren, whose titan form has dropped to the ground, now, and Jean hurries after Hanji before anyone can reach him.

"Squad Leader Zoe!" he calls, vision going dark for a half-second as he jogs to catch up to them. He nearly trips, but rights himself, and finds Hanji already watching him, head cocked.

"What's up, soldier?" they ask, sounding almost amused as they check that they're digging Eren out properly.

"I-I, uh, I wanted to apologise for missing practise, Squad Leader, I-I didn't wake up, and no one woke me up, and I only just... I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's alright, soldier," they say, smiling. "Your friends" - they thumb at the group that have congregated a little aways from them - "told me you were sick."

Jean furrows his brows. "Sick...? I'm not..." Hanji's staring again, but this time it feels more like scrutiny, like assessment. "I'm not sick."

"You're not looking great, soldier," Hanji says.

"I'm fine!"

"If you say so," Hanji shrugs. "You're quite pale, though, and you look tired - are you sure you're up to 3DMG today?"

"Yes, I can handle it," he promises.

"Alright. But if you fall and break all your bones, that's on your head, soldier."

"Th-thank you, Squad Leader."

They smile. "No problem." They head off to Eren, who's looking groggy between Mikasa and Armin, and he looks up as Hanji approaches, before his eyes slip past them to land on Jean, who's just standing and staring. Immediately, Eren rips his arms from his friends, stumbles over his feet, and lurches over, looking furious. Hanji watches in amusement; Mikasa and Armin are shaking their heads.

"Kirschtein!" Eren yells. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Apologising for missing training, Jaeger! Because no one fucking woke me up!"

"You needed to sleep, asshole, anyone could tell you were two seconds from fainting just by the look of you!"

"I'm _fine_ , Jaeger, it didn't even help! I _wish_  I could've woken up, but I fucking couldn't, and when I do wake up no one's fucking _there_  because no one told me they were going to training!"

"You shouldn't be here, you should be resting! There is something fucking wrong with you, Jean, and I want you to get better!"

" _Why?_ "

"Why- because I fucking _care_  about you, you stupid idiot? And you're fucking _worrying_  me, Jean, I want to help you!"

Jean stands, helpless, and stares. "But...why? You hate me. I don't.. I d-don't deserve..." He crosses his arms, hunching his shoulders as Eren comes closer.

"I don't hate you, horseface," Eren murmurs, "how many times do I have to tell you...? I'm worried about you; we're all worried about you."

Jean shakes his head. "That doesn't...make sense." His voice hitches, and he has to close his eyes. "I-I thought... He said-"

"Oi, Jaeger!"

A group of older soldiers are jogging by, and a few of them depart from the main body to run over, waving and yelling. The guy is at the forefront, heading straight for Eren and Jean, and as Eren turns to grin at the guy, Jean pulls himself away, stumbling back a few steps and turning only to face his own friends, who are smiling at the guys as a few watch him. He turns again, this time to Hanji and Moblit, and goes to them, saying, "Squad Leader, a-are there any chores you'd like me t-to do? To-to, to make up for missing today's, um, today's training?"

He glances behind him - Eren's clasping the guy's hand and bumping shoulders with him and Jean thinks he's either going to cry or be sick, but luckily Hanji says, "Why don't you have a chat with them in the kitchen and see what you can do, alright, soldier?"

Jean sighs. "That's great, Squad Leader." He looks behind him again. Eren and the guy are converging with the main group, who are all chatting like great friends. "I'll just- I'll just be going."

"Get better soon, soldier," they call behind him, and he hurries away from the training grounds as fast as his shaky legs can take him, and when he chances one last glance behind hi, just as he's about to enter the building, he sees that they're all laughing and clapping each other on the backs, and they don't realise Jean is gone at all.

Mybe the guy was right. Maybe no one cares, maybe not at all.

\--

Chores are easy. The kitchen crew allocates him to various cleaning up tasks, since he goes mildly green at the sight of actual food, and he manages to stick around throughout the entirety of lunchtime. When they offer him a snack, he has to shake his head and keep cleaning, pretending like he ate before he came. He thought staying occupied would keep him from being distracted, but washing dishes and wiping down surfaces is boring, even with the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, and the thoughts end up creeping into his head anyway, thoughts about the guy and his friends replacing Jean, about them talking about him and telling lies to his friends, or worse, telling the _truth_  to his friends, and the horror with which they'd react.

Hs hands shake. These days, it's like they never stop.

Nevertheless, he avoids his friends all through lunch, and shows up almost-late to the 3DMG training grounds, which are a little further out. They're practising moves in would-be squads, and Jean's assigned to four other people he only vaguely knows, and once they're deep enough in the forest, they leave their horses and let their gear take them up into the trees.

The moves are easy, for Jean at least. He's gotten used to the pains that flare up with every move, every time a strap digs in, and he knows now to just grit his teeth and ignore it. He pulls the moves off quickly, and helps a few of them out when they struggle, and when someone comes round to check their progress, they give them a couple more complicated moves that the others find much harder.

Jean doesn't mind them too much. Practising with his gear is actually relaxing, he can just push and pull and focus his muscles right and he'll go flying through the air, he can twist and spin and dash from tree to tree and has there ever been something so freeing? No, Jean thinks not, and as difficult as these new moves are, it doesn't take him long to master them, because it's never taken him long to master anything about 3DMG. He ends up lingering in the trees for awhile, before the others get embarrassed by his presence and he offers to leave, to give them time to learn the moves without him watching all the time.

Not that he was watching. He was staring at the sky, which is blue with a few drifts of clouds, and wondering what it'd be like to be up there. Lovelier than down here, he bets. Birds won't hurt you. Trees won't go after you in the dark. If he can be up there, up in the sky, maybe no one could get to him at all.

They assent for his leave, and he shoots off, grinning for the first time in forever as the wind carries him along, hooking from tree to tree until he's far further up that he started, till he's flinging himself over the forest and swooping back down again, laughing and throwing his arms in the air when he can. The old aches fade; the memories, too, recede, if only for a little while. He throws himself up, up, up into the air, hoping that maybe he never comes back down - but he does, of course, and lets himself fall again, catching himself on a tree and spinning before hooking himself back up again.

He does this again and again, pulling himself away when he finds other groups and switching directions every now and again to make sure he doesn't get too lost. Eventually, though, he tires himself out, and finds a nice tree that towers over the rest not too far from everyone else, so that he can spot individual groups larking around. He checks a few branches before sitting down next to the trunk, leaning back against it and sighing. It's been a long week. It's been a long, hard, tiring week, and that feeling, these circumstances aren't going to change soon...but now, right now, he can escape it all. He can pretend it doesn't exist. All he has to do is look into the bright blue sky and imagine something different, something _greater_  for him. Maybe he doesn't believe he can reach it - maybe he _knows_  he can't - but for now, he can pretend.

He's there for a long time. He doesn't know how long, but eventually someone comes to join him, because everything good for him has to end.

"Hey, Jean."

It's Eren. Of course it is. Jean has no idea how to act around Eren, now, he didn't even before that...happened. Developing a disgusting crush on your supposed rival kind of confused things, especially when you're still messed up over your best friend's death. But now...liking Eren feels dirty. Jean doesn't think he can handle imagining having sex with anybody, at least for a good while, but even dreaming of holding Eren's hands make Jean feel like touching Eren will contaminate him, like Jean's a disease on legs and he'll end up spreading it to Eren if he's not careful.

Besides...Eren doesn't deserve someone like Jean. Jean, who's been...used, tainted, already, whose head is a little fucked up at this point, who has to hide on his own on the tallest tree in the forest to feel peace. Eren deserves a girl like Mikasa, who's strong and sincere and loyal, or a guy like Armin, who's clever and witty and brave - not Jean, never Jean...

"Hey..."

Eren's eyes are a few shades greener than the sky - they're big, like a child's, but they're experienced, they've seen things, and they're fiercer as a result. His skin is unblemished, because everything heals, and his lips are a little darker than his skin, a dark tan in the sunlight. Eren is...beautiful, strong, ferocious. Jean is nothing. Jean _wishes_  he was noting, wishes he didn't exist at all. He's weak, and naive, and so desperate for attention and validation that he'll let anyone who shows the _slightest_  interest just-

But he didn't want it. Sometimes, when it's dark and quiet and no one's around, Jean whispers it to himself, insists that he never wanted it, not even from the start. Who... Who could want that? What the guy did, what he's done _since_  then... It's driving Jean insane. He's scared, always scared, but not just of the guy - of his friends, too, and what they'll say. That maybe they'll hate him. Maybe they'll never want anything to do with him again.

Eren, Humanity's Hope, hating him. And what would that say about Jean?

"Hey, Jean..." Eren leans in a little closer, and Jean doesn't have the energy to shift away. He catches Eren's eyes, so genuine and bright, and shuts his own. Eren's shoulder nudges Jean, but it doesn't hurt too badly - Eren's warm, and safe. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," Jean says, or tries to - it's a choked sort of gasp, and when he tries to breathe again it hitches, and his next exhale is a sob. Tears drip down his cheeks. "I'm fine," he says, "I'm fine."

"No you're not," Eren whispers. "It's okay."

"I'm fine," he says, like he didn't hear Eren, like he's a broken record playing on repeat. He feels like one. "It's fine. Everything's alright."

"Except for you, idiot," Eren says, still in that same soft tone of voice. "C'mere." Eren places his arm round Jean's shoulder, faltering a little when Jean freezes. Instead of resting his head on Eren's shoulder, like he so badly longs to, Jean raises his hands to his face and hides it, crying hard and wishing no one was there to see it. "Hush, little baby, don't you cry, Eren's gonna sing you a lullaby..."

"No he is not," Jean croaks.

"Let me finish," Eren says indignantly. "If you think that Eren can't sing, Eren's gonna buy you a diamond ring, and if that diamond ring turns brass, Eren's gonna buy you a looking glass..." His voice is rough, and out of tune, and it doesn't stop Jean from crying or thinking all the terrible things he can't stop thinking, but it's comforting nonetheless. It ends, though. Of course it does. "..and if that horse and cart fall over, you'll still be the sweetest baby in the world."

Jean coughs. "No, I won't."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"...No."

"Why? Is it something bad? Was it a mistake? Or- or what is it? What could it be?"

Jean wipes his eyes with his jacket sleeves, pulling away his hands to stare back at the sky. It's a little darker than before, but the sun's still out, and it still looks beautiful. "It's terrible," Jean manages, shaking his head. "But I can't- what if you don't believe me?"

"I'll believe you."

"What if..." Jean breathes deeply, trying to stabilise himself. "What do you think of the guy? That n-new one who sits with us."

"Oh! Yeah, that one... He's a funny guy, and clever, I s'pose... But the other day he tried to tell me you might, I dunno... Like, act out for attention. Like, because Mar... Marco's dead, you'd be feeling lonely, so you might say or do stuff to get attention, but this... All I see is sickness, Jean. Like something's messed with your head."

"He has," he admits, his voice dry and far too quiet.

"What?"

Jean doesn't think he can hold back anymore. He's too sick, too tired to keep it in. Maybe the guy's right. Maybe Jean does want attention. "It's like a nightmare, Eren," Jean confesses, tears sliding down his cheeks, "but it never ends, I can't get out, I..."

"W-wait, Jean," Eren says, a hand wrapping round his wrist carefully, "start at the start."

"You have t-to...promise not to tell a-anyone. And you have to promise you w-won't... _do_  anything. O-or... You have to believe me, E-Eren, please, he-he keeps saying no one's going to believe me and I- what if no one believes me? You have to, Eren you _h-have_  to."

"Okay!" Eren assures him. "Okay, I will. I promise. I... Just get it off your chest, Jean. You'll feel better."

"It was...the night of the, the party... And I, I said I'd had too much to drink, but I was..." Jean takes another deep breath, glaring down as his face heats up. It's so difficult to speak the words, like there's a physical barrier lodged in his throat that won't let them out. "A-at the bar, I'd been...talking to him, that- that guy, you know..." Eren nods next to him, hand on the wrist growing tighter. "And I... There were... _suggestions_...and I... Oh, oh god" - Jean chokes back a sob, straining his throat as tears come thick and fast - "I met him outside, a-a-afterwards, because I-I thought that...it would be...just _fun_ , but it w-wasn't, he, he did all these things and he _s-said_  a-all these things, and, and it _hurt_ , it st-still hurts, and now he keeps _showing up_  and making friends with u-us so that when everybody finds out they'll side with him b-because no one will believe me, he told me _n-no one_  would believe me..."

"I believe you."

Jean shakes his head, still crying terribly. "Do you?"

"Yeah," Eren says, and his voice is shaky, like he's lost, but he continues, "After everything we've been through together, I believe you."

Weirdly, it doesn't comfort him - well, it _does_ , but it doesn't stem the tears; no, they flood all the harder, till his voice is broken with cracks and sobs. "H-he told me no one would care, that they'd believe h-his word over mine because he's older, a-and because I...wanted it, at the start, but I- not like th-that, _never_  like that... The tea last night, I, I couldn't wake up... I kept dreaming about it... I w-wanted to die..."

Eren sounds like he's choking. "I'm sorry, Jean, I'm so _sorry_ , I never thought in a million years it'd be something like- like _that_... And he seemed so good as well, like he actually cared..." Eren stops, then begins again, in horror, "That night, last night, you had a panic attack, and he was there with you. Did he-? What did he...? Oh, god, tell me he didn't-"

"He was... _laughing_  at me, b-because I'm weak and I felt sick a-and I had to leave, he thought- h-he thought it was _funny_... And the..." Jean breathes deeply, readying himself. "The nights before, when he sat next to me, he'd... Underneath the table, wh-where the bruises are..."

"The bruises," Eren repeats, voice low and quiet. "Did he- All those bruises from before, the... The hand shapes, I-I _knew_  they were hand shapes, he... Oh god, that's fucked up, Jean, that guy is so fucked up..." He pauses, and Jean finally takes a look at him - he's gone pale, and his eyes are narrowed but unseeing, his lips twisting downwards. He's taken to rubbing is thumb across the back of Jean's wrist. "Why didn't you tell us?"

He looks away, memories surfacing in seconds of all the threats and taunts and little looks that told Jean all he needed to know. "I didn't think anyone would believe me," he admits, digging his nails into the bark beneath him. "I thought I would be okay..."

"But you're not."

"I-I was at first. I thought I was...but now I'm so tired, Eren, I can never sleep, and I always feel sick, or that something's watching me, and the guy, he-he keeps showing up and I don't know what to do..."

"I'll help you."

"How?"

"Well," Eren says,and his tone of voice is such that Jean looks over again - his lips sneer and he glares above the forest with sinister delight - "if that guy ever tries to fucking talk to you or me again, he's in for a nasty surprise."

Jean shrugs. "Okay. But-but what about everything else? You can't just- make the b-bad dreams go away."

Eren nods. "Dunno. My mum used to sing me lullabies when I had nightmares. They always helped."

Jean lets out a little laugh. "Eren Jaeger singing me a lullaby? Touching."

"Oi, get tae, Kirschtein. I'll have you know my repetoire of lullabies is second to none. Here, you can have a listen if you want."

"Shut it, Jaeger, yeah right."

"Trust me, mate, these are good."

"Well, as long as it's not that stupid one from before."

Eren smiles, soft and slow, and presses him a bit closer with his arm. "Alright, I'll do it different. C'mon, put your head down and try and sleep."

"What if I fall. We're probably on the tallest tree in the entire forest."

"Yeah, well, I can catch you. Alright?"

Jean shakes his head, then rests it on Eren's shoulder as instructed. "Sure, whatever."

"Nice." Eren's pensive for a moment, then says, "'Kay, this is one from before the walls. Back when they had the ocean and shit. I always...really liked it..."

"Get on with it, then."

"Alright! Alright... _Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, onward! the sailors cry. Carry the lad that's born to be king, over the sea to Skye. Loud the wind howls, loud the waves roar, thunderclaps rend the air. Baffled, our foes stand by the shore, follow they will not dare..._ " Eren squeezes Jean's hand, and for the first time in a very long time, he feels an innate peace spreading throughout. "Oh, speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing..."

Eren goes on, and after awhile, Jean falls asleep. For an hour, he does not dream.

\--

Fucking _Levi_  comes after them eventually. It's barely sunset when Jean awakens, sky fading into pinks on a horizon that Eren and Jean have a perfect view of. Jean's too sleepy to bother moving, and he still feels like shit, so he just kind of leans into Eren and hopes he can support both their weight, if only for the moment; Eren's hand ruffles his hair every now and then and his eyes are lit up beautifully by the sun, and it has a serenity to it Jean doesn't ever want to leave.

But Levi shows up, shouts at them for five minutes, and them leads them back to the the outskirts of the forest, where their horses are waiting, and they return to the normalcy. A different kind from before, though, only slightly altered - a normalcy where Eren _knows_ , and treats him a little differently for it, but doesn't treat him any worse. Doesn't laugh at him, doesn't ignore him, isn't disgusted by him - _does_  believe him. A normalcy where the guy is wrong where they'd both thought he'd be right. A normalcy where, when the guy and his friends show up at dinner time, Eren is cold and ruthless as he tells them to leave, and there's a glint in his eye as he stares down the guy.

A normalcy where Jean has to forks' worth of food, which isn't enough by any means, but is a beginning for it. A normalcy where he drinks enough water, then refills a jug and takes it back to the barracks so that he can refresh it during the night.

In this new normalcy, not much has changed at all - everyone walks on their own constructed eggshells around him, and likewise Jean retaliates similarly, and they try and get him in on their jokes but he's still sick and sad and won't let them.

But in this new normalcy, Eren sings him a lullaby before bed, when everyone else is in their bunk, and when Reiner and Connie start asking questions, Eren announces he'll sing for everyone, and does so, but he's holding Jean's hand the entire time and doesn't stop until Jean's fallen asleep.

In this new normalcy, Eren sings him to sleep, and in these sleeps he can finally feel safe.

It's not enough. It's barely a start; but it _is_  a start.

**Author's Note:**

> i think we all know the first lullaby?? the second isn't even a lullaby, like, i think it's an old old song abt scottish independence? well, it's about bonnie prince charles escaping his failure to secure it...something like that...basically it has no way of actually relating to eren? i could've looked up german lullabies, but...ayo fuck that shit m8. i was feeling self-indulgent. the tune's been on my mind a lot lately. my mum used to play it on piano for us as kids. idk son.
> 
> there r probs loads of spelling errors so soz D: also if u think there's anything else i need to ask pls tell my it's 2.35am and i have a headache but i really wanted to post it so yh... i'll start working on taking steps again i promise!!


End file.
